


Paint You Wings

by The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Mary is a friend, Multi, Oblivious Sherlock, Sad John is Sad, Sassy Sherlock, She and John are good friends, Song fic, because john is sad i am sad, different plot fom the show, i am sorry please don't kill me, i really like all time low, it can only get happier, sherlock's fake death, sorry no sex but there is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:58:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso/pseuds/The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A song fic about Sherlock and John. Song is Paint You Wings by All time Low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint You Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I really like this song and I thought I'd do some johnlock because it just felt right. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing. also, I am need of a beta for future works and works currently in progress so if you are interested comment or message me. (:  
> And for those who actually really don't know what the word means here it is:  
> Apathy- Most commonly defined as a lack of feeling, emotion, interest, or concern. It is a state of indifference, or the suppression of emotions such as concern, excitement, motivation, and/or passion.

**_When will the princess figured it out,_ **  
**_She ain't worth savin'._ **  
**_Heavy the head,_ **  
**_That bears the crown of my mistaken._ **

The first words that John ever hears from Sherlock Holmes are both alarming and brilliant. He is slightly aroused and more than impressed by the skills of the consulting detective. He finds himself trusting the man enough that he would even bother with the flat on Baker Street. One thing that John also learns is that Sherlock wants to believe that the world will bow to him. John realizes that he is an extraordinary man, but a man nonetheless. He is mistaken in the assumption that Sherlock has the needs of an ordinary man, though. He is shown that when he is told by Sherlock that he is married to his work. And later on, when John asks if he's sure he isn't a machine Sherlock gives him a sharp look. It was John's honest mistake. But he doesn't miss the way that Sherlock's eyes rake over him when he thinks John isn't looking.  
  
  
  
 ** _Apathy for sympathy._**

It happens a year after they've known each other. They are dancing around each other, playing a dangerous game that neither is willing to lose. They cast longing glances and brush hands too often to be considered mates anymore, but neither is willing to say it out loud. So they dance around each other. But it happens a year after they've known each other that John cracks after a case.

They were sitting in the living room, watching the fire crackle when John speaks up.  
"That was a right tough one, wasn't it?" John says softly as a way of small talk.  
"It was elementary, John. The wife did it. She did it for the money. How very tedious of her. It must be a bore to have a brain that goes slower than a tortoise." Sherlock goes back to looking at the fire.  
John shakes his head. "I just don't understand why she'd do that. . . It's so cold."  
Sherlock looks at him. "Emotions are an inconvenience."  
John looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed. "No one can completely erase emotion."  
Sherlock retorted as soon as he finished his last word. "I did."  
John felt something nagging then. He didn't know if it was because of the obvious sexual tension or the fact that he was tired of acting like nothing was going on. "That's not true. I know you are capable of emotion."  
"You may convince yourself of that, John. I, however; am very well aware of my mental and emotional state."  
John felt that he needed to contradict this statement; for his sake and Sherlock's. It seemed that there was more behind this fight then either of them wanted to realize. "No, I know you are capable of feeling. Because then you wouldn't have given Molly that subtle compliment the day I first met you. Or the time you near killed a man when you saw he was hurting Mrs. Hudson."  
"That was for protection. And I simple told Molly the truth. Those are not displays of emotion or sentiment as you seem so adamant to believe, John."  
"Yes they are! You cannot say that you don't feel something! That you don't feel emotion! Everyone feels it!"  
"Yes well I seem to be the exception to that then, don't I? I told you before, John. I am a high functioning sociopath. I made no false impression that I was anything more." Sherlock continued to look at the fire as he spoke and John was standing. He was curling and uncurling his fist.  
He didn't say anything for a bit until Sherlock slowly turned his head. "Or. . . It seems that while I gave you no false impression you are hoping that I am the contrary."  
"Shut up."  
"You are hoping that I do feel something, anything."  
Shut up, Sherlock."  
"You are hoping that the anything I feel is for _you_."  
John left then. He stormed out with his jacket and keys and left the flat with a slam of the door.  
Sherlock looked back at the fire. Something was deeply upsetting him, but he deduced it to do with human sentiment. He filed it away as useless.  
  
  
 ** _I was never good enough to be_**  
 ** _Anything but a remedy_**  
 ** _To all of your constant pressing needs_**

Two months after their fight was when they both cracked. It was not John who cracked first, surprisingly. It was right after Baskerville. They got home and Sherlock immediately pinned John against the inside of their door in the flat and kissed him senseless. Neither of them had objected and neither objected when things escalated.  
The morning after when John expected to wake up to Sherlock right besides him he was sorely mistake. The bed was cold and all of his clothes were picked up and folded. John got up and ventured out to the kitchen. No one was there but he saw Sherlock sitting in his chair, playing the violin.  
John smiled at him. "Hey."  
Sherlock didn't look at him, which should have been the very first indicator that this was going to be nasty. "Hello."  
John stood there, the smile falling with every second. "Are you alright?"  
"Yes."  
He stood there, suddenly feeling that this was more awkward than he wanted it to be. Sherlock looked at him. "John, I would just like to state something before this escalates to a point at which I can no longer control it. This is not, like they say, a conventional relationship as I am very well aware of that. So I am proposing that we, you and I, should be, what is that vulgar term, 'Friends with Benefits'. It is for convenience of the human urges I am very aware that I must have dealt with, and saves me the trouble of a rent boy, as they are most unsavory."  
John heard the words that Sherlock said but only focused on 'Friends with Benefits'. He knew at this point that it was useless to argue, to contradict. And he knew that no matter how crest fallen or disappointed he looked Sherlock would just be oblivious, because he was a machine. He didn't understand or bother with human sentiment. John smiled. "Sure, mate. Glad I could help."  
Sherlock only realized he had messed up when he heard the door to the flat slam fifteen minutes later. He went to the window. John was walking away, with hunched shoulders and Sherlock had no idea what he was supposed to do. He found these human emotions tedious. He filed it away as useless again.  
  
  
  
 ** _And I never learned, so..._ **

When John came back from his walk they had slow, sensual sex. And this time Sherlock didn't leave in the morning but it didn't mean that this was a good idea. John let it happen more than a few times in the weeks that followed. He just never learned how to say no to Sherlock Holmes.  
  
  
 ** _I painted a picture of the things I wanted the most_**  
 ** _To color in the darker side of all my brightest hopes_**

John was on a walk when he started thinking about Sherlock. Although there were rare times when he wasn't thinking about Sherlock this time was different. He couldn't help but contemplate his relationship with the consulting detective. He had his eyebrowss furrowed and to anyone who wasn't a complete genius who could deduce his appearance he looked like nothing but a worried bloke who was now sitting on a park bench. He started with finding the things that they wanted out of the relationship and was worried that they weren't on the same page. John, the moment he saw that there was a slight chance, had decided that he wanted to stay with Sherlock. And he had done that, in almost every way. Sherlock Holmes was so ingrained into his life that not having Sherlock Holmes around was an unfathomable alternative. John, in those rarely moments of watching Sherlock passed out beside him in bed, wondered what it would be like to have Sherlock permanently. John had never been adverse to the idea of creating family and had been of the mind that soon, in about ten years, he would have one. The problem was that Sherlock didn't want the same things. Sherlock was interested in chasing criminals, not changing diapers. Sherlock wanted to preform experiments, not get married, and John found himself in a situation he never imagined he'd be in. A very complicated situation with an oblivious genius.John decided that the idiotic tab in Facebook that read _It's complicated_ was the definition of his relationship with Sherlock Holmes.  
 _Needed at Baker St. Come immediately. -SH_

John went. He followed Sherlock Holmes and let his dreams be just that, dreams.

  
  
 **_But there's a monster standing where you should be_ **  
**_So I'll paint you wings and I'll set you free_ **

They were at a crime scene, Sherlock was yelling at the people on the scene and his eyes were livid. Evidence had been removed and put away from his reach. John saw him look almost monstrous and John spoke up.  
"Sherlock! That is enough."  
Sherlock looked back at him, almost like he had forgotten that John was with him. "The evidence, John. I need it. Where is the evidence?"  
John shrugged. He looked at Lestrade but the DI just shook his head. Sherlock looked at John with what seemed like desperation. John wanted to stop the yelling, wanted to just take away Sherlock from the crime scene but he just took a step back and  let Sherlock get it out of his system. It was like setting him free, watching him run around London during case. And during those times in a case Sherlock was kind, he laughed and he acted human. For a moment John felt that they were normal. But he knew that making Sherlock normal was like caging a bird. So he just followed Sherlock around London, solving crimes, and letting him go free.  
  
  
 ** _I was a pawn in all your plans_**  
 ** _You kept me busy_**

John is more than angry when he finds Mrs. Hudson still in her flat, perfectly fine. That anger, however; only lasts for a few seconds as he realizes where he left Sherlock. He runs, takes a cab, and runs some more. The phone call that comes in is one that sends John reeling. Sherlock is at the top of St. Bart's. He's standing on the ledge and John can feel everything, all of his life, drain out of him. Sherlock tells him he's a fake and John wants to run up to him. He wants to tell him to come off the ledge. He wants to selfishly be the one person that saves Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't. And the moment that he hears it; he hears the cracking of bones John knows that his life has been ripped from him. He is more than three meters away but he knows the moment that Sherlock Holmes hits the ground. He runs, he doesn't know how fast, but he runs to the lifeless body of his. . . friend. He selfishly wishes that he had told Sherlock that he wanted more, that Sherlock was enough but that he needed more. He looks at Sherlock getting carried away and doesn't go into the hospital. He can't bring himself to think of what is happening and he doesn't cry. He can't.  
  
  
 ** _Locked behind your chamber doors_**  
 ** _When you felt frisky_**  
 ** _Until you got sick of me_**

John can't, won't, stay in the flat. He sits in the chair across from Sherlock and revisits the times they had at Baker Street. He remembers all the times they had sex and all the times the fought and all the times they laughed and John goes to the bathroom and vomits because he remembers the right side of Sherlock's face. He remembers the blood and he wretches for more than an hour. And then, sitting there, imagining Sherlock Holmes dead on the ground, John finally cries and doesn't move for hours. Greg comes by and picks him up off the ground.  
As they sit and have tea John doesn't talk. He just looks at the fire and remembers that fight where John had wanted Sherlock to tell him he felt the same way; that he wanted the same things that John wanted. It didn't happen that night or any time after. It would never happen. John stared at the fire and tried to erase Sherlock's face from his mind. It wasn't possible; John didn't think it'd ever be possible.  
"I'm sorry." Greg said softly.  
John couldn't look at the fire. "So am I."  
Greg frowned. "No, I mean. . . I mean it, mate. I know you and Sherlock. . .  Well I know how close you were."  
John nodded silently.  
Greg put his hand on John's shoulder. "Do you remember the time that I said that maybe one day Sher-He would be a good man?"  
No answer.  
"You did that, John. You made him human. He was better, greater, because of you."  
Somehow John wasn't remedied by that fact. It only made him more regretful of the things they had never said. Greg left a while after that, to make sure that John wouldn't do anything too rash. A week later John finds a new flat and says good bye to Mrs. Hudson. She cries a little but John goes anyway. He can't stay locked behind that flat door. He prays to Sherlock and hopes he'll understand why he has to go away.  
  
  
 ** _I was never good enough to be_**  
 ** _Anything but remedy_**  
 ** _To all of your constant pressing needs_**  
 ** _And I never learned, so..._**

The one thing that John takes from the flat is Sherlock's sheets. He has fond memories in him and hopes in vain that he can keep them and smell Sherlock like when he used to wake up to the human spider wrapped around him. John never learns.  
  
  
 ** _I painted a picture of things I wanted the most_**  
 ** _To color in the darker side of all my brightest hopes._**

It's been a year since The Fall that John meets Mary Morstan. She makes him feel better, lighter. He feels like he's in love. But he can't help but compare her to Sherlock; he knows it's unfair. But he can't help it.  
But the thing that stops them from ever going further is that Mary hides her past and John knows that all too well. They stay friends after a few dates because, although she is a trifle suspicious, Mary makes him better, she makes him forget about Sherlock for a while.  
One night, a few months after knowing her John tells her about Sherlock Holmes. He finally tells someone about all the thing he hadn't said but wished he had. He tells her about how John had hoped that one day they'd be able to get married, maybe be closer than they had been. And Mary listens because John is her friend and John feels so much better admitting to someone that he loved Sherlock Holmes.  
  
  
 ** _But there's a monster standing where you should be_**  
 ** _So I'll paint you wings and I'll set you free_**

John hated Mycroft. He always had. He thought it might have been that Mycroft thought he could easily manipulate the people he met, but mostly John hated him for ruining Sherlock Holmes. He hated the fact that only a handful of people knew Sherlock Holmes for the extraordinary man he was. But when John sees Mycroft Holmes he feels a punch in the gut and instantly feels like he's been swallowed by sadness. Mycroft is expecting him for a meeting and John agrees if only because he knows if he doesn't Mycroft will find a way to make him go anyway. But when he sees him he feels a desperate longing he hasn't felt in months. Mycroft has the same nose, and the eyes. The deducing and deliberate eyes. John almost can't stare at them because of what they remind him of. He blinks a few times and behind his eyelids are pale grey, dead eyes. All the while that they talk John just can't help but feel like this is wrong, like there is a demon standing where an angel should be. Mycroft is too polite and too considerate. John realizes that he misses Sherlock. But John doesn't think that for too long. Thinking about Sherlock and always considering him is what made Sherlock feel restricted. John looks Mycroft in the eyes after that but can't help but feel like there is a monster standing where an angel should be. John sets Sherlock free in his mind just like he did a couple of years ago.  
  
  
 ** _When will the princess figure it out_**  
 ** _She ain't worth saving_**  
 ** _And when will the world get over_**  
 ** _All her misbehaving_**  
 ** _Will we ever learn?_ **

When Mary and John are out for dinner and they are interrupted by Sherlock John doesn't know how to feel. Everything in his chest is filling once again but John can't help but feel this swelling anger. By the end of the night John has punched Sherlock a grand total of three times.  
John goes to all the friends he knows and finds out that Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft knew. He is more that livid and yells at them both in Greg's office. "Are you bloody kidding me!? You knew!? You both did! Of course you did!" The two men keep their heads down but Greg is the one to look John in the eyes and tell him why.  
"We had to. Sherlock was on a very important mission. And he made many enemies. If any of them figured out you were dead that would have been very bad."  
John doesn't care. "I don't care! I have taken more than my fair share of danger for being Sherlock's assistant! Heaven knows he wouldn't care either way," John looks at Greg with eyes are look ready to kill someone, "You saw me that day. You saw what I was going through and you still let me go through it."  
Greg sighed. "Mate, we had to. There was no other option. Sherlock had us promise that you were to stay safe. This was the only way to do it."  
John frowned, his anger still there but slowly draining away. "Why? Why would that matter? He never had to worry about that before."  
Greg and Mycroft looked at each other and Greg just shrugged. "That's one that you have to ask Sherlock."  
  
  
 ** _I painted a picture of the things I wanted the most_**  
 ** _To color in the darker side of all my brightest hopes._**

John runs back to Baker Street. He feels his chest swelling; half way back he decided that he'd finally say all the things that were never said. He didn't want to feel regret the next time Sherlock was gone.  
He ran and ran like he had when they used to run across London and he ran up the stairs to their flat and find Sherlock standing by the window playing his violin. John ran up to him and hugged him. It was inadequate and Sherlock hadn't hugged back but John was just happier to have Sherlock back. He pulled away and smiled at him.  
After a few moments John dropped the smile and led Sherlock to his chair and ordered him to sit while John sat in his chair.  
John looked at Sherlock and finally spoke. "We. . . I . . . There are a lot of things we didn't say. And I feel the need to say them now, because heaven knows when you'll leave me again."  
"I don't intend to ever leave you again, John. Not if I can help it." Sherlock says vehemently.  
John nodded. "Either way. . . Sherlock, while you were gone I had so many regrets. Sod it, I realized I was in love with you. And I know that that was long before you left, but we can't keep doing this 'Friends with Benefits' thing now that you're back. Because I want more, I have always wanted more. And I know you are ahigh functioning sociopath' but bugger it if I don't tell you that I just. . . I'm not, and I can't turn this off. Neither do I want to."  
Sherlock waits until he's finished speaking to launch himself at John and kiss him feverishly. John melts at the feeling of Sherlock, a feeling he never thought he'd get to feel again.  
Sherlock pulls away and for the first time, in all the years that John has known him, Sherlock Holmes smiles a bright smile full of happiness. "Hello, Watson."  
  
  
 ** _But there was a monster standing where you should be _**  
**_So I'll paint you wings and I'll set you free_**  
 ** _(So she can fly away)_ **

That night, while they're lying in bed John traces Sherlock's back and he inquires as to what John is doing.  
John smiles. "Painting you wings on your back."  
"John, that is absolutely ridiculous."  
John nods. "No it's not. You're on the side of angels."  
Sherlock hums and falls back asleep.  
John no longer feels the weight of Sherlock Holmes on his back. He feels the warmth of a hand, the hand of Sherlock Holmes. So they run and solve crimes and everything is back to normal. John is happy to set Sherlock free again, accept this time Sherlock flies away with his dear Watson in tow.

 


End file.
